Paul's Down-Home Page

This Saturday, Arlene is throwing a baby shower for our friend Rachael. The boys and I want no part of that, so we have alternate plans. First, we’ll go to Mark Wasylyshyn’s re-election pancake breakfast. With all-you-can-eat pancakes, this is a pretty good deal in my book. After that, we’ll head to karate for the Saturday morning double-header: an hour of grappling, followed by an hour of sparring. Matthew is excited that his sparring gear finally came in, so he’ll be out on the floor mixing it up for the first time. After that we should have time to grab a quick lunch before our monthly leadership seminar starts. These seminars are usually lots of fun; past seminars have focused on stick fighting, knife defense, and yoga (along with a good bit of character education).
By that time, the shower still won’t be over, so we might take in a movie, or maybe hit the library. After that, Tom and I will work on his Pinewood Derby car, and after that we can hopefully go home and feast on the leftover food from the shower.

Wow, what a day! As I write this, I’m in seat 15E on Northwest flight 208. It’s an exit row, so I can sit in reasonable comfort. The iPhone is rocking some Rock Band songs, and I’m working on UC Metro stuff (well, except for right now!)

Last night, Arlene and I left some Russell Stover mini-boxes on the kitchen table for the boys. This is a fun tradition, except for the part where they want to eat all the candy immediately upon sighting it. This morning, David made the bus without incident, and Tom woke up about 45min earlier than usual. He had decided, more or less at the last minute, to make a special Valentine for his friend Amber. This was a good move, because Amber is going to be gorgeous when she grows up and it’s important for Tom to score brownie points now, before adolescent stupidity sets in.

Anyway, once the boys were off to school, I worked for a while, then Arlene and I made a quick run to PF Chang for some delicious take-out lunch. This was followed by more work (big surprise there!), then a trip to see David’s orthodontist.

That’s right; I said "orthodontist." My little boy, the one who was deathly afraid of Santa Claus for his first couple of Christmases, is now entering the teenage netherworld of steel wires, rubber bands, and meticulous toothbrushing. He’s taken it really, really well (helped, no doubt, by the fact that the ortho folks said his smile already looks great, not to mention the ice cream the patients get when they leave), so today he got his separators in. These are little rubber rings that encircle his molars, gently pushing them apart. Next week, he gets his molars wrapped in metal so that the arcwire can be anchored to something solid, then they bond the brackets to his teeth with duct tape (kidding; it’s some kind of exotic dental glue). There are lots more details that I’m skipping because frankly they’re not that interesting unless a) you have a tooth fetish or b) it’s your child. The important details: brush and floss regularly, don’t sip sodas all day, and (the best part) pay up front to get a 5% discount.